


EVEN

by LiliMane



Series: 7 Days of Words, Words, Words [5]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: AU, But Even makes his heart melt like he always does, Coworkers/Office, F/M, First Person Narration, Friends with benefits or enemies with benefits...sth like that, From Isak's POV, I don't really know how to describe it, Isak deals with some stuff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, SkamFicWeek, angst I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliMane/pseuds/LiliMane
Summary: ❁❁❁ SkamFicWeek | Day 5 - Work Colleagues AU ❁❁❁Whatever. People come and go. Sometimes they don't come at all. Sometimes they only send you money. And the ones that come don't stay too long. But that's how it is and there's nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to do anything about it. I can accept reality. I've been doing nothing but accepting reality since the day I stopped dreaming. And I'm doing quite well, if I do say so myself.





	EVEN

**Author's Note:**

> Well this turned out a bit more angsty than anticipated. Originally I didn't want it to be angsty at all, but once I sat down this simply...came out. 
> 
> It's also the first time I wrote first person POV. It also just happened. 
> 
> Isak loves Even and Even loves Isak. As always and in every universe.

 

**09.09.2021**

 

I cross the street and walk up to the building, then open the glass door and walk in. I stand in line to the elevator. Everyone around me is wearing fancy suits, which is an indicator that they're going up. I'm the only one who's destination is the bottom floor, apparently, since I'm the only one wearing sweats and a hoodie. I'm the only one _allowed_ to wear sweats and a hoodie. Well, it's better for me. At least I'm cozy. And in the summer, I don't have to sweat my ass off in long, fancy trousers. Instead I show up in my shorts. I could probably even take them off while at my desk, since almost no one shows up at our little cubby. Well, almost no one.

He's already here when I walk in, chatting away and giggling like little schoolgirl along with Magnus. What a pair they are. What a delightful. Freaking. Pair. I'm not even grinding my teeth when I drop my backpack dramatically on the floor next to my desk, which grabs their attention.

Magnus looks up from his computer and Even turns his head in my direction. God. His giraffe of a neck looks even longer from this angle and that _is_ not a compliment.

“Hi.” He raises his eyebrows and shoots me a smile. Must be nice slacking off first thing in the morning.

“Why are you here, _Even_?” I don't know why I always stress his name when it comes out of my mouth. Must be my inability to contain my irritation with this excuse of a coworker. Damn it, he's not even our coworker anymore. He's moved up a long time ago and now he's just one of the suits who go up each morning, while the two of us go down.

“Too lazy to do your job, as always, presumably.”

“Maybe, a bit. But mostly too eager to see my good friend Magnus.” He looks over to Mags and pats him on the shoulder, which, as always, elicits a dumb, dopey smile on his face.

“Aww. I was away on the weekend and I couldn't manage to show Even my latest Deep Internet discovery.”

Ugh. Magnus and his stupid little videos that he claims you can find only after rummaging through the “depth of the Internet” through a certain amount of time and going through a certain “Internet route.”

“You know how it is, Issy. I couldn't send him the link (and _you_ , of course, I didn't forget about you, I'm going to show it to you in a minute), 'cause, you know, you can only find some links going through...”

“A particular route to which you have to dedicate a particular, usually particularly _long_ amount of time. I know. Whatever.” I do _not_ roll my eyes and turn on my computer, not paying them any more attention.

“Well... I better go. Gotta start work sometime, I guess.” Even though he said that, he's not moving from his place, probably exchanging weird looks with Magnus, as always, while I'm not looking. Is this their way of talking behind my back while I'm _right there_ with them? _Even_ I could understand doing this, but Magnus? Et tu, Brute?

“...Okay. Bye for now, Magnus.” He finally gets up, on those long skinny sticks of his, and walks over to the exit door. “You too, Isak.”

I grace him with a simple “mhm”, not looking over. I've already started working on my first file. Not looking away from it to see that mug of his. That smug mug. My computer screen is _a lot_ more worth attention than _he_ could ever be.

“...Okay.” He finally walks out. You'd think it would take him less time to cross the room, considering his abnormally long limbs. There's a moment of silence, until Magnus mumbles, “You could at least try not to be a total asshole around him.”

“I'm not an asshole around him.”

“Wow.”

“I'm just _dismissive_ of him.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Whatever Mags. I'm not having this conversation with you every time after he comes over.”

Another pause.

“We're here to work, anyway. Not bond with our coworkers.”

“You were not opposed to the idea of bonding with him when we first got here.”

“Well...I changed my mind. Get used to it, finally!”

“God. Okay, okay.”

Fantastic. Marvel-fucking-lous. It hasn't been 10 minutes yet and _Even_ has already managed to get on my nerves and screw up the atmosphere in the workplace. What a talent.

Talented he must be, indeed. When we first started working here, about 6 months ago, he was the only one who managed this dowdy little room, situated at the very bottom of this huge corporate building, seeming like a little world existing on its own, since no sounds coming from any of the upper floors can be heard here. Bad case if there's an emergency, since no one even remembers that there are people working here. Even though they _should_ remember. We're the IT crew. We're the ones who design all their websites, official ones and dedicated for each of the workers individually, we're the ones who are responsible for all the equipment working properly while they're kissing asses of some even more corporate and even more grossly rich suit-covered draftsmen. _We're_ the one who are truly creative and efficient in what we do, yet we're also the most overlooked. These guys from upstairs – they're just here to collect the money for badly-designed lumps of bricks they call “modern architecture.” Sometimes I feel sick, walking through the city I was born in and seen change so much for the worse, as more and more ridiculously-looking buildings grow on the cement each day. Most of that now cement areas used to be parks when I was growing up. Whenever I bring this topic to my friends, all they say is that “I sound like an old man” and “I'm just frustrated that they earn more than I do.” But I don't want to be paid shitload for doing the bare minimum while at the same time managing to ruin one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

And yeah, maybe I'm not the best person to complain about the state of architecture in my town since I work in one of those gross, oppressive sky-scrapers, but still. It's how I feel. And there _was_ a person who wouldn't dismiss me when I would bring it up. There was one who I could talk freely about the passion for my city and my views on _real_ architecture. But he's one of the suit drones now, even though he was the one who welcomed me and Magnus here when we first arrived and showed us the ropes, and even instilled more passion in us regards to our work. But he's one of the suit-covered drones now, and every day he goes up while the both of us do nothing but go down.

Whatever. People come and go. Sometimes they don't come at all. Sometimes they only send you money. And the ones that come don't stay too long. But that's how it is and there's nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to do anything about it. I can accept reality. I've been doing nothing but accepting reality since the day I stopped dreaming. And I'm doing quite well, if I do say so myself.

 

 

**21.10.2021**

 

I'm not doing well at all. Fuck. I hate this. I always do this whenever I feel vulnerable. Or when I'm sick. Or drunk. Or a bit tipsy. Or under the weather. Or in a bad mood. Or when I get back home from visiting mom. Or when I get a particularly long text from that I-can't-do-this-anymore-you-have-to-take-care-of-her-now-someday-you'll-understand asshole. I hate it. I hate that he's the only person who-

“Hallo?”

He picked up. He always picks up. Fucker. If he didn't, if he would ignore me at least once, I would give up on calling him each time I feel like shit. I would. Definitely. Most probably. Maybe.

I don't say anything, though. I don't know what to say. I just want to hear his voice. Maybe.

“Isak?”

Silence. My heart's beating like crazy and I hate myself like I always do when I call him.

“I was just in a meeting. It was shit. I was bored out of my mind. Why do they call us into these meetings 5 times a day? It's not like anyone would notice or it would make any difference if any one of us would not show up. Cookies were good, though. I'll bring you some next time we have one of those. But they're only good when that girl makes them. Her name's Adela, I think, but I'm not sure. She's sweet.”

Oh, great. So I'm feeling like shit and he decides to talk about a girl he met. Wow.

“Magnus is totally crushing on her.”

Oh.

“One day he went to the 4th floor to get the projector going, even though the only problem was that it wasn't properly plugged in, you know, like usual, and then he met her. Fuck. He couldn't stop talking about her for the next week. He's been talking a bit less lately, but hey, don't tell him this, but she asked about him yesterday. Oh, man. I'm so excited to tell him. She was like...”

Suddenly he starts talking in a high-pitched voice, which is _not_ cute at all.

“You know that IT guy, right? You used to work in this department, so I guess you know him, right? There's not that many of you down there, so I thought you'd know him, since, you know, you go down there sometimes. You see my mixer broke down a few days ago and I thought he could come up and fix it or something, but I don't know the number for that department, I mean, I would probably be able to find it if I searched through all the papers, but there's so much of those papers, Ev. I can't deal with all this paperwork I have on my hands already, and if I started to go through all of the old ones, I'd never be done with the new ones...”

His voice changes to normal.

“And so on, She talks _a lot_ , let me tell you. Almost as much as Mags does.”

I can hear smile in his voice. I hate that I know this smile by heart. I hate that I know exactly how he looks smiling, and that I can perfectly imagine how he looks now. Smiling like a fool to his phone, while the guy on the other line can't even muster a word to him.

What an asshole I am.

“Are you free now?”

Oh, God. I can't do this again. But, at the same time, I can't have this image in my head of him smiling and _not_ want him beside me. Smiling. To _me_.

“Uhh...Yeah. Yeah. I got off work half an hour ago. I'm...near your house actually.”

He's near my house? Why would he be near my house?

Whatever. It's better not to over think anything when it comes to us. I mean. me. And him. There's no us, dammit.

“Can you...come over then?”

There's a pause. I don't know whether it's because he's hesitating. I don't want him to hesitate. I know this is not what he wants. I know I'm pushing it every time I call. But I need him. Sometimes. And the rest of the time I'm an asshole.

“Yeah.”

 

 

**02.12.2021**

 

He's totally the one who's an asshole. Fucking _Even_ . Talking to that girl he swore Magnus liked and that he swore that “it's only a matter of time before Mags and her get together because, personality-wise, they're basically twins, Isak”. Bending that giraffe of a neck of his to hear her through the music playing through the office speakers in that office party I should not even be invited to. He's having a good time while I stand on the other side of the room pining after him like an idiot. And it's not even my fault, the way I feel. He _made_ me feel this way. Who wouldn't eventually start pining after a guy who _always_ picks up the phone when you're feeling down and _always_ rushes to your house when you call him, even if it's the middle of the night or ridiculously early in the morning? Who wouldn't start feeling things for a guy who is always nothing but the sweetest and patient to you even though you're awful to him half the time you see him at work? Who wouldn't start crushing on a guy who gave the best fucking blowjobs and was nothing but generous when you wanted him to be, and gentle when you wanted him to be and really fucking rough when you wanted him to be in bed? Who wouldn't fall for a guy who whispered “I love you, I'll wait for as much as you need me to” into your hair while he thought you were asleep? Who wouldn't-

“Hey.” Magnus comes up to me with a cup filled with something that smells like vodka in his hand. “Sooo...They seem to be fond of each other.” He looks over to join me in this pathetic staredown at a person who's clearly not interested even though they've repeatedly led you to believe differently by being nothing but _so. Fucking Sweet._ _And. Kind._

“Yeah. Well. We-I mean, you've learned your lesson. People come and go. They go more often than they come. And even if they come, they don't stay for long.”

“But...But she's been so sweet to me! And her cookies. Oh, man. They were the best things I ever had in my mouth.”

I look over at him, trying to shake off the image of Even's dick from my mind which apparently has to be the first thing that pops into my head after hearing the words 'thing', 'in', 'my' and 'mouth' used in the same sentence.

“Maybe they're just talking. I mean, I would be crazy if I assumed someone I've been hanging out with the most for the last few days is not interested in me just because they're talking to someone else. Right?”

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Is that what I'm doing? Am I being like, obsessive, or possessive or something? I mean, my arrangement with Even has lasted for the last few months. Magnus has known that girl for like, a week, yet he's feeling more stable in his relationship than I do. Fuck. There's seriously something wrong with me.

I put my drink down and excuse myself. I can't be here. I can't watch this, whatever it is. It's probably just an innocent conversation Even's having with a coworker. Yet I'm blowing it out of proportion in my head, even though Even's done nothing but repeatedly reassured me of his feelings for me. Fuck. I can't let him be that guy. That guy who deserves better but doesn't realize it so he lets me take advantage of him all the time. Fuck. I _know_ him. I know that if I don't clearly say “no” to him then he won't stop coming and being so fucking sweet. And I know _myself_. I know I could never look him straight in the eye and honestly say 'no'.

I have to get a hold of myself. Get a fucking grip. End this. I'm going to end this. First thing tomorrow. When he's visiting Magnus and stealing glances at me while I pretend I'm not crazy in love with him. Pathetically and desperately in love with him. Let's just hope he hasn't fallen as deep as I have. If he hasn't, then he can still climb out. As for me-

“Isak? Isak!”

I stop. I'm already half way to the elevators. I didn't even take my jacket with me. Fuck. I just left the party and started speedwalking through these goddamn corridors in this goddamn excuse of a building that has like a hundred floors and each of them look the same. God, I hate this building so much. If it hadn't been for him I wouldn't even bother working here anymore. Why does everything have to click in my head now? Why couldn't it happen at a better time? Or, much earlier? Before I was so knee-deep in this shit?

I stop, but I don't turn around. I don't want to. I can't. Not when I'm sure he's finally getting a shot at seeing my emotions all over my face. Fucking emotions. I have been doing so well. I've been doing so fucking good at hiding them. Gathering them all up and meticulously tucking them all away in the deepest corner of my heart. Fuck. And now comes the realization that it's all been for nothing.

“Hey.” I hear his voice and I can tell he's standing just a few steps behind me. Why does his voice have to be so fucking soft? And _filled_ with worry? I don't deserve this type of worry.

“I'm...I'm going ahead. I forgot I had a prior...arrangement.”

Fuck. If this doesn't sound like the worse excuse in the world.

“This arrangement being, what?”

Silence.

Don't, don't say it. Please.

“You, running away the second you've realized something new about yourself?”

Fucking. Asshole.

Why do you know me so well?

Am I so easy to figure out?

“We've been meeting up for almost 5 months now. And pretty regularly I'd say. I know you rather well by now.”

Fuck. Is he a mind reader or am I really _that_ easy?

“And the only reason I used the phrase 'meeting up' instead of 'dating' is because you've repeatedly told me not to use this word.”

Ugh. Go away now. _Please._

“ _Isak_.”

He touches my shoulder. I tremble. Like every time he touches me. I guess I really _am_ predictable.

“Is...”

I close my eyes. Fuck you, tears.

“Did seeing me with Adela make you mad? You know I'm not interested in her. We were just talking. About you, actually.”

I can't even say anything. I'm physically not able to. I don't even know why anymore. It just happens sometimes. I can't say anything and it ends up in him just spouting monologues at me, which ends up in my heart melting. Let's not let that happen this time, okay, Valtersen?

“I was...telling her, I'm in love with this guy, this...” I can hear him smiling, I can fucking hear it and I _hate_ that I can recognize how his voice changes when he smiles. “...incredibly, incredibly adorable ball of...” His smiles falters. “... _angst_. I know, I know how it sounds and I'm not saying that your angst is adorable, or anything. I'm saying _you're_ adorable. The way you smile, and grouch, and huff every time you receive a compliment and don't know how to react, and how you make love to me, and how you talk about what you love and what you 'absolutely can't stand,' to quote you. I find everything about you adorable. Except for your pain, baby. Angst is just pain. It's pain and it's guilt and it's fucking heavy and there's nothing adorable about it. It's just _pain_. And I can't help it that your pain pains me too. And I just want you to let me in sometimes. I know you hate the people from upstairs because they remind you of your father. I know you're afraid of getting close to me because once I've moved up you've been scared that I'm going to turn into one them. The ones that don't want to connect and just send you the guilt money because they have a lot of them and so they don't know the worth of money. But I'm working hard up there, you know that. I'm working for my future and I'm working hard to make that money so that I can truly appreciate what it can bring to my life. You've seen my designs. You know they don't look like the ones they keep bringing in to the office and the ones that always get approval and they ruin the city you love so much. I'm trying to make a change in my own way. And I would love, I would love _so much_ , for you to try and bring change into your life as well, for the better. It doesn't have to be with me. But you gotta open up, baby. To other people, to your dad, and, most importantly, to yourself. I know it's not always pretty what you find inside yourself, believe me, _I_ know. But you gotta try.”

God. God, I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much. Him and his stupid movie-like monologues.

“Will you try? You can leave, I won't stop you, I have no right to. Just promise me you'll try?”

I hate him. But I turn around. And my heart melts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading and let me know if you did :)


End file.
